A quick note about adventures in Rock and Roll here in Buenos Aires. Last Friday after work I met up with Senior Rolf and we spend 110 of Josh's hard earned pesos on two tickets to see Divididos. We couldn't affard it (not that we can really afford anything right now) but we didn't care. It was our last chance to see Nick's favorite Argentine rock band and now that we are leaving in a month it feels like we have to do as much as possible and we need to through caution to the wind.
Because the lying weather.com told us it was supposed to thunderstorm all afternoon we spend a few sunny hours indoors at Sherlock Holmes with Nick and then headed to his casita for some drinks and some random Argentine trivia game before the show. Also in attendance were two newbies who are fresh off the boat and doing Nick's program and a welcome addition to our rocking out.
The rest occurred in a Fernet and Coke a Cola induced haze but we hopped right on the 92 and headed for what was still for me the unvisited neighborhood of Flores. We stopped for meat sandwiches and then arrived only a little bit late for the show.
And. It. Rocked. My. Socks. Off.
Ok, that's not true because I wasn't wearing socks, but after the first half hour or so Josh and I headed into the mosh area and my shoe was sucked into the vortex of dancing feet and rocking porteños. I decided I was not going to care and spent the rest of the time dancing half barefoot and happy that people were drinking out of plastic cups and not bottles. As far as music goes, it was amazing. Their songs were amazing, their covers were amazing. I had the best time. Until I realized that Nick's shirt had come loose and was no longer tied around my bag (the boys had given me their shirts about 2.34 seconds after we walked in) and I was a little more than preoccupied that I had not only lost a shoe but my friend's shirt. We were going to make an interesting group on the way home.
When the concert was over I waited for the crowd to clear, the girl that came with us found my shoe, but Nick's shirt was no where to be found!!! Nick's shirt all have some type of significance, and this one he had picked up at a Nicaragua coffee conference with his dad. I was determined to do something.
When I emerged from the theater I was in two shoes and had an extra shirt. I held it out with a hopeful smile. It was white and it had three words stenciled on. The first was red, the second green, and the third yellow. It said Jamaica No Problem. It was also soaked with sweat. In the end it was ok and we were all soaked in sweat regardless of whose shirt we were wearing. I totally love this band now. If any of you, dear readers, are in BA for a Divididos show, it is unmissable.